


built this house on memories

by lacecat



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: (or is it), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Flash Forward, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Other, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 08:23:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18257468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacecat/pseuds/lacecat
Summary: He wakes up eight years in the future, and everything is strange, butAlexis there.





	built this house on memories

**Author's Note:**

> interrupting the planned updates for half a dozen black sails fics to present this because idk anymore!! also because who doesn't love a good "surprise ur in the future" fic and romantic drama ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> i'm @villanellve on tumblr!

Michael wakes up to the sound of an alarm clock beeping angrily at him - only it’s not the battered, wires-sticking-out-in-every-direction device, one that he had fished out of the bottom of a dumpster, that’s making noise.

 

Instead, there’s a much nicer looking one blinking red numbers directly in his eyesight. Michael squints, his groggy brain trying to process this apparent change. Then he registers the warm arm around his bare waist.

 

The arm, and the hand that’s slowly rubbing circles in his chest that’s incredibly familiar, but he definitely went to sleep alone last night -

 

“Are you going to turn that off?” An unmistakeable sleep-hoarse voice says into the back of his head. 

 

He automatically reaches out to turn it off. The nightstand is different, the pillow under his head is clean and fresh - and _where is he?_ He manages to hit some button, and the thing goes silent. He can hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

 

This has to be a dream. With his hand still on the clock, Michael says, “Alex?”

 

“Expecting someone else?” Alex yawns into the back of his neck. Whereas Michael knows Alex to be alert and upright as soon as the sun rises, this Alex runs his fingers up his sternum, seemingly content to push his cold nose into the space behind Michael’s ear as he says, “Tell me we can stay in today.”

 

It has to be a dream. Maybe shapeshifters are real - would that be too much of a jump? Michael squeezes his eyes shut, pinches himself. He finds himself decidedly not waking up, opening his eyes again and removing his hand from the clock. 

 

“It’s only nine,” Michael says, after another long pause. He’s not sure why he isn’t freaking out more - or maybe his panic’s delayed, as the red numbers swim a little before his eyes, as he blinks hard, processing.

 

Unaware of his silent shock, Alex mumbles, “Your turn to get Jo.” He’s plastered against Michael’s back, a long line of warmth as he says, “She kept me up last night again.”

 

But before Michael can now truly, truly panic, he adds, “I left her leash in the kitchen if you want to walk her before breakfast - “

 

“Something’s wrong,” Michael blurts out.

 

“What?”

 

He still can’t turn around to look - he doesn’t know what he’ll do, if this is really happening. “I - I don’t know what’s happening - I don’t know where I am.”

 

“Guerin,” Alex says with some concern, and he withdraws his arm, sitting up. “What’s wrong?” The mattress groans a little, and Michael turns to finally look at him.

 

Alex looks -

 

Alex looks _happy_. He doesn’t have that tense look about him that he usually sees, and his hair is a little longer, messier than he thinks he’s ever seen. There’s a little stubble like he hasn’t shaved yet, either, and it feels like it's been months since Michael has seen Alex do anything other than glower at him, so the sight makes him feel ten different shades of  _everything_. 

 

Michael catalogs his face greedily, as Alex rubs the sleep from his eyes, stretching the thin skin so the lines at the corners of his eyes go away for a moment before reappearing -

 

Holy shit. 

 

“Alex,” Michael manages to get out, because it’s an impossible idea to entertain - and yet, he’s an alien who crash-landed on a planet in 1947, so he thinks he should get ready - “What year is it?”

 

Alex frowns at him as Michael clumsily clambers upright, pushing the sheets and comforter towards the foot of the bed. “What exactly did you drink with Max last night?”

  
  
“Just - humor me,” Michael comes close to begging.

 

“2027,” Alex says, and Michael would to laugh, only he feels frozen, his breath caught in his lungs, “Michael, what’s wrong?”

 

“Because I fell asleep in 2019,” Michael says, blunt. Alex’s eyebrows shoot up. “If this is your idea of some - prank, ha-ha, you’ve got me - “

 

“I would ask you the same thing,” Alex says, and he leans a little away from Michael, as if to better read his expression. Michael can’t look away. “You’re serious?”

 

“It’s not 2019,” Michael says weakly, and he sounds desperate to his own ears as he confirms, “It’s - the future?”

  
  
They stare at each other for a few long minutes. Finally, like he’s placating a wild animal, Alex says, “Coffee. I’ll make - coffee.”

 

Michael can’t even find it in him to nod, as he watches Alex slowly slide off the bed, put on the sock for his prosthetic as he sneaks concerned looks back at Michael. 

 

His fingers twitch in the sheets, feeling as though he should fill the silence with something, anything, but then Alex is getting up, and he leaves Michael alone to consider all of it.

 

 

•••

 

 

Eventually, he finds it within him to face the music. Michael gets up from the bed in search of clothing. He ends up stepping on a pair of slippers that are on the hardwood floor in the bedroom - in _their_ bedroom.

 

He picks one up, and then lets it fall back to the ground. This is all feeling horribly Twilight-Zone-y, and he thinks that if he opens the closet and there are a bunch of pinstripe suits or something, he might actually scream.

 

Only upon inspection, the closet on the far side of the room holds clothes he recognizes. There are some of his shirts in there, folded neatly, if slightly stuffed to fit on the built-in shelves.

 

Michael’s always been a fan of the duffle bag storage solution - always ready to go at a moment’s notice, plus if you roll them you can fit more without too many wrinkles - and to see his belongings all laid out, like he’s been there for some time, is disconcerting.

 

Some of the clothes in there are unfamiliar, like a suit he knows he doesn’t own but looks to be in his size, hanging in a clear garment bag. Michael reaches out to touch the heavy metal buckle of a belt that looks like it would be something he would own, only he knows he doesn’t - and he stills when he sees his left hand.

 

Above the gnarled skin, there are two faded, pink lines along the side of his hand. The unnatural bend to his pinky and ring finger is reduced, and as he flexes it ever so slightly, he finds that it doesn’t ache as much. He can even curl his fingers a little in, forming more of a grip.

 

There’s also a dark line of ink around his ring finger.

 

“You had the surgery about two years ago,” he hears, and Michael looks up to see Alex leaning against the doorway. Watching him. “It brought back some function. In case you wanted to be a rock star, you like to say.”

 

Michael takes this in. He swallows. He wants to ask about the ring - but finds he can’t. “All right.”

 

“I made breakfast,” Alex says then. He seems much less freaked out than he should be about any of this, but maybe 2027 Alex Manes is more resilient if one could ever be, in these kinds of situations. “Can you come out?”

  
  
“Jo - is that our dog?” Michael asks.

 

“Yes. Her full name’s Jolene,” Alex says, and his mouth twitches, sliding a little to the side like Michael recognizes when he’s feeling fond. That, at least, hasn’t changed one bit.

 

He breathes in, out, before he says, “You named the dog after a Dolly song?”

 

“You did,” Alex says, that strange look in his eyes. “You’re saying you remember nothing?”

 

“I don’t know what’s happening,” Michael says honestly. “The last thing I remember was falling asleep in the Airstream.”

 

Alex studies him with those dark eyes, and then he gives him a slight nod. And like that, a little of the tension bleeds away from him, because even if this is 2027, Alex is here, and he _knows_ Alex.

 

“Okay,” Alex says. “We’ll figure this out.”

 

 

•••

 

 

Jo turns out to be a ridiculously cute beagle, who wags her tail when she sees Michael, drooling on the ground as she comes over to him. Michael lets her sniff his fingers, before putting her head on his palm and licking his wrist as he carefully scratches under her chin.

 

If someone had told Michael that at thirty-six, he would be living in a cozy split ranch with Alex Manes, either at eighteen or twenty-eight - he would’ve laughed. Hell, if someone had told him that he would _make_ it to thirty-six, he would’ve been surprised.

 

But if it isn’t like someone had peered into his brain, seen every tiny, embarrassing dream that he had ever had, and brought it to life in front of him. Michael takes a seat at the tiny table perched in front of a window overlooking a dusty desert yard, as Alex brings over two plates of eggs and toast. He swears a little under his breath as Jo goes to weave between his legs, nearly dropping the entire mess on his way over.

 

All this is making Michael’s heart feel dangerously close to swelling right out of his chest, and so he forces himself to look away.

 

He wraps his hand around a chipped mug that isn’t his, takes a sip like maybe this is still some fever dream-fantasy that is about to break, and Michael will wake up (disappointed, alone) in his cramped bed in 2019 once again any minute now. 

 

“So,” Alex says, watching Michael pick up a piece of toast - a little burned around the edges, covered in butter and raspberry jam, just like he secretly loves, and somehow this Alex knew that - “What do you last remember?”

 

Michael takes a careful bite, half to give him time to process all that question brings up. What if this is some different world, where things are impossibly different? He hasn’t tested to see if he has his telekinesis, he’s realized, and the idea that he’s somehow _human_ in this future makes that panic surge up again.

 

“We’ve been together for a while,” he dares to say out loud, to confirm, “Right?”

 

Alex’s mouth twitches again, but then he looks serious. “Yes,” he says, then like he’s being careful about it, “We’re married. We’ve been married for four years, now.” 

 

He guessed as much, given the ink on his finger, but the words out loud, the confirmation, makes that fluttery feeling come back, sharing the space with the panic in his chest right now.   

 

Michael nods, swallowing. “And we moved here - “

 

“About five years ago,” Alex confirms. “Just after you moved into Valenti’s cabin with me.” He stirs his coffee, then pauses. “Should I be telling you any of this?”

 

Michael can’t help but snort. “What, worried you’ll affect the space-time continuum?”

 

“It’s a valid concern,” Alex throws right back, and that, at least, is the same as Michael knows with his Alex.

 

_His Alex._

 

Michael pushes that thought away in favor for more pressing questions. He finally gathers the courage to ask, “What have I told you - about my past?”

 

“Your past?”

  
  
“Anything about where I came from,” Michael hedges. "Before the foster homes - ?"

 

“Uh,” Alex says, “You mean the alien thing?”

 

Jesus Christ. “ _Yes,_ I mean the _alien thing_. I told you in your… 2019, right?”

 

“You did,” Alex says, “I know about Max, Isobel, Rosa's death. Everything that happened that night, in high school.”

 

“I just told you,” Michael tells him. “I - the last time I saw you, you said you needed time. I just showed you the bunker, my ship, and I told you everything.”

 

They both consider this. Beneath the table, Jo makes some snuffling noise, before lying down between their feet.

 

“I don’t know what I can tell you,” Alex says, “But it was a lot for me to process, then. Everything that had gone on with me, with my father, with us - it wasn’t you.”

 

“I know,” Michael says, and he runs along the edge of his plate with his finger as if testing the surface. Looks down at the ink on his ring finger again, he says, “It’s fresh for me.”

 

“We were dumb kids,” Alex says, and Michael looks back up. Alex smiles as if he’s reliving some memory that he shares with him. “You like to say that you knew you were going to marry me the day you first saw me, but I think your vision of the past has gotten a little rose-colored in recent years.”

 

Michael exhales. “Tell me about it. Our… wedding.”

  
  
Alex sets down his mug. “It wasn’t anything big like that. I think we disappointed your sister,” he says, huffing out a laugh as he crosses his fingers, resting his head on them. “We drove to Santa Fe for the weekend, decided to make it official. We got rings,” and he nods to Michael’s hand, “That would work with your hand then, but you wanted something for when you couldn’t wear a ring that would get in the way.”

 

He lifts a necklace chain that Michael hadn’t noticed out from under his shirt. There’s a ring on it that glints in the light, a match to the one that’s on Alex’s hand as he holds it so that Michael can see. “You’ve also broken yours twice, so you gave it to me for safe keeping.”

 

Michael stares at the rings. “Am I still a mechanic?”

 

“You teach shop at the high school now,” Alex says, “And you’ve been thinking about going back to school and getting your degree, in part because you have a vendetta against the current science teacher.”

 

“I’m a _teacher_?”

 

“It helped that your partner was an ex-hacker who could get rid of your criminal record,” Alex says rather mildly, and he tucks the necklace back under his shirt, “That, and once we came to Carlsbad, we had a fresh start.”

 

“Huh,” Michael says. “And you-you're retired?”

 

“Living off my pension and our part of the Manes inheritance,” Alex says with a shrug that Michael chooses not to follow up on. “I volunteer at the vet’s center when I can, help Mrs. Romero across the street when her cable doesn’t work.”

  
“Alex Manes, the friendly neighborhood man,” Michael says, falling back on humor to try to mask how much this is all affecting him - learning all of this, as Alex sits across from him and doesn’t bat an eye. “I can see it.”

 

Alex smiles, but it’s a little strained. “Alex Guerin, actually. I took your name.”

 

“And Max and Isobel, Noah - do we visit them?”

 

“Isobel and Noah travel a lot, but Max comes by most weekends,” and Alex, despite being straightforward for everything else he’s shared just now, lets a slight pause go by before he continues, “With the kids, too, and Liz. You helped Ada build her diorama last week.”

 

“Jesus,” Michael says, “They have _kids_.” He’s less surprised at the concept that Max and Liz made it work, and more that there are people in existence here that he hadn’t even considered. 

 

As he moves to run a hand through his hair, his elbow catches on the mug. It spins on the table, before landing on the ground with a sharp crash. Jo jumps a little, but ultimately stays lying down.

 

“Shit,” Michael says, reaching down - and then with a quick glance at Alex, he turns back to the pieces and wills them up, feeling that familiar thrum under his skin.

 

At least his powers work in the same way. The broken handle and the rest of it float up, landing with a soft thud on the surface of the table.

 

“Sorry,” Michael says, and they both know it’s not just the mug. ”I really don’t know how I got here. I don’t know what to tell you.”

 

Alex’s face is unreadable when he dares look. At his silence, Michael continues, “I didn’t think any of this was possible. I - I don’t know to understand how any of this - how - “

 

“We worked hard at it,” Alex tells him, lying his hands down on the table. “And it was a lot of work, coming to grips with what had formed us. But is that so impossible to imagine?”

  
“I don’t know,” Michael says, feeling heavy from more than just the additional information. “I guess I didn’t expect to ever end up playing house with you. We’ve got - history, Alex. I guess I don’t get how we got over that.”

 

“Sorry,” Alex says suddenly, and he pushes back from the table, rising rapidly. “It’s just - you look the same, but it’s like reliving an old argument with you, like this.”

 

Now his heart aches for an entirely different reason. “Alex - “

 

“I’ll be back,” Alex says, and he reaches for Jo’s leash. “Just - maybe it’s best if you stay put. Jo needs her walk anyways.”

 

“Okay,” Michael says quietly, watching as Alex takes her out the door. At the doorframe, he pauses for a moment, like he wants to say something else - and Michael wants to say something in return, or maybe just not to be alone right now - and then Alex slips out, closing the door behind him.

 

Turns out? In 2027, watching Alex walk away from him like that, it still hurts.

 

 

•••

 

 

While he waits for Alex to get back, Michael looks around the house. He’s decided to stay away from the internet for now, lest he _really_ discovers something he never wanted to know, but that doesn’t mean that house isn’t fair game to explore.

 

Besides, if he’s stuck here, he should get some research done, shouldn’t he? Or at least figure out if anything is truly fucking up the space-time continuum by this flash forward.

 

The garage attached to the house is definitely his - there's an old engine that he seems to be in the middle of taking apart, countless other projects strewn around that pique his interest. Michael opens a couple of drawers here and there, and he snorts when he finds one that has decidedly not mechanic-used lube. 

 

Having been in the bedroom already, Michael ventures into the rest of the house first. Down the stairs from the bedroom level, there’s a small hallway with bookshelves to either side. There’s some artwork up, too, both children’s drawings and black-and-white photographic prints. The photos include desert scenery, car parts, streets - all sorts of angles and details that feel crafted, and yet something that Michael would’ve never thought to stop and take a second look at in the first place.

 

There are a few dusty leather-bound books on one of the bookshelves, which look like photo albums. Michael pulls one of them at random, flipping to the first few pages.

 

At first, he sees images of himself. They’re mostly in black and white like the ones on the wall, and it’s more than a little surprising to see himself portrayed laughing and smiling at something behind the camera. Some of the shots are a little blurry, and then there are photos of Michael kissing Alex interspersed with Michael sleeping, both of them at the Grand Canyon, them sitting on the back of his truck, and one that must have been from the courthouse wedding.

 

Michael goes into the living room to sit down, and he continues through the book.

 

There are other photos - Noah and Isobel dressed up, the two of them posing on marble steps somewhere important-looking. Michael recognizes Maria and Kyle Valenti, and half a dozen other people who flit in and out of the photos. Maria kissing Michael’s cheek on one side, Noah doing the same on the other. More of Liz and Alex and Maria, and then some with Max and Michael and Isobel all together. Michael’s breath catches for the tenth time that day, as he sees his siblings laughing together in this memory, immortalized behind the plastic.

 

Photos from what appear to be Max and Liz’s wedding, then Liz pregnant, her face round as Max has his arm around her. A shot of Alex holding the baby, and looking terrified right next to Kyle, who’s holding a pacifier and mid-eye roll, half of Max’s face in the frame. Some holiday celebration where he sees all of them together, like some strange extended family of humans and aliens alike. More photos of himself, his face half cast in shadow. Then, one where Michael’s holding the camera out, and his other hand’s on Alex’s jaw, pulling him in for a kiss, with a New Year’s banner in the background, and tinsel in their hair.

 

Michael traces this last image of them for a long time. There are years represented here, giving him an idea of the history that he’s apparently lived through. That ache is back, growing in his chest, as he’s caught between the disconnect from the memories he doesn’t have, and how _easily_ it seems like they were made, at the same time.

 

 

•••

 

 

When the door finally opens, Michael is still in the living room. He’s got the album in front of him, open to the picture of the two of them kissing at midnight.

 

Alex lets Jo free from her leash, and she happily pads into the kitchen, where they can hear her lap at the water bowl. Then, there’s silence.

  
“I found this,” Michael says at last, somewhat unnecessarily, when it seems like Alex won’t speak up. “Did you always have a camera?”

  
  
“Took it up not long after I decided not to re-enlist,” Alex says, shifting to look at the photo too. “You built me my own darkroom in the basement here.”

 

“I saw the prints on the wall. They’re really good.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“If I’m stuck here,” Michael says then, keeping his eyes down, “I would be happy. I look happy, in these.”

  
  
Alex scoffs. “You don’t need to comfort me. This has to be as strange for you - “

 

“It’s weird for both of us,” Michael interrupts. In his time at least, it’s perhaps as open as he’s ever been able to be with Alex. He sets the album down, stands up to meet Alex’s eyes as he says, “I mean, we said for better and worse, right?”

 

He means it as a way to lighten the mood, but Alex’s brow furrows. “I made a vow with you - future you, other you, I don’t know - but you don’t get to throw that in my face,” he snaps. “Maybe you haven’t realized, but I’ve just lost the past eight years I’ve had with you. So - don’t.”

 

It stings, but he’s right. “I can’t take back what I said,” Michael says, “But I trust you. You say we’ve worked at this - and I believe you. I believe that we did make it. I’m trying.”

 

For a moment, he wonders if that’s the wrong thing to say - but then Alex nods just a little. “We don’t know if this is permanent,” he says steadily, and Michael sees the truce for what it is. “I’ve been thinking. If this is some power that you developed, like some kind of time travel, it would explain you waking up in the future like this, especially if it manifested for the first time in this way for you.”

  
  
“This is getting really too sci-fi for my tastes,” Michael drawls. “Let’s be realistic. I think I drank some bad tequila, slipped into a coma, and now I’m here to Patrick Swayze you from the past.”

 

The resigned look in Alex’s eyes nearly makes him laugh out loud. “You’ve definitely never seen that movie,” he says, and Michael smirks.

 

“I think they played Dirty Dancing at the drive-in once?”

 

“I called Liz,” Alex says firmly, and Michael lets the smile fade off his face. “She might be able to help. I told her I’d text her when I came back.”

 

  
“Okay,” Michael says, Alex’s dark eyes holding him in, “This might even be a challenge for her.”

 

He jumps a little when he feels Jo nudging against his calf, having wandered back over to them. Michael lets out a surprised laugh, squatting down to pet her. “You know, I thought you would be a cat person,” he says.

 

Alex snorts. “I’m allergic.”

 

  
“And now I know,” Michael says, once again intending it to be light, but he looks up and finds Alex’s gaze pinning him in place once again.

 

He clears his throat, and he concentrates on the dog. “Good girl,” Michael says in a low voice, wrinkling his face as Jo licks his cheek.

 

He can hear Alex walk around and settle in the couch he had abandoned. Michael sits back on the ground, his shoulder brushing Alex’s knees, and Michael finally starts to relax. 

 

 

•••

 

 

“Huh,” Liz Ortecho says when Alex opens the door, Michael close behind him, “Time travel this time?”

 

Liz looks good with nearly a decade more in her pocket since the last time Michael has seen her. There are a few more lines on her face like Alex, and her hair is short around her face, but her sharp gaze has stayed the same.

 

“Liz,” Michael greets. “You’ve really pulled off thirty-something.”

 

“This definitely is Michael from the past,” Liz says, looking at him up and down. “I can’t remember the last time he hasn’t called me Doc.”

 

“Don’t give him any ideas,” Alex warns, as Michael grins. “Thank you for coming.”

 

“Anything after the diorama debacle,” Liz says easily, then pauses. “You don’t know about Ada and Elena, do you?”

 

“Alex filled me in on some details,” Michael says. “Congratulations times two?”

 

Liz gives him another critical look as she steps into the ranch. “You look the same, but I want to take a look at your cells,” she says, right to business. “If you used your powers significantly in the past few days, like traveling to the future, we might be able to tell compared to normal use.”

 

“And if he hasn’t?” Alex asks, closing the door.

 

“Then we see what else we can find,” Liz says, and she’s already pulling gloves and other equipment from the suitcase she had rolled in with her, ever the scientist. “Guerin, how long has it been since you’ve been my lab rat?” 

 

“Just the other day for me,” Michael says, and he rolls up his sleeve. Alex hovers in the doorway, watching them. “Try not to bleed me dry, will you?”

 

 

•••

 

 

While Liz runs the tests, Michael goes into the kitchen, where Alex has been silently leaning on the counter for the past hour or so.

 

“Hey,” he says, stepping in and lowering his voice when Alex doesn’t immediately respond, “Hey - are you good?”

 

Alex blinks up at him like he had been lost in thought. “Fine. Is Liz working?”

  
  
“As quickly as she can,” Michael says, in an attempt at comforting, but it falls flat. “I wanted to ask you something.”

 

“It might have been a mistake to tell you so much,” Alex says, crossing his arms. “If we can get you back to your time, I don’t know how you might change things.”

 

“And if I don’t,” Michael says steadily, “I’ll need to catch up. Sort of caught between two situations there - “ he nearly finishes it with _Manes_  but catches himself. "I think I get it, now." 

 

“You don’t seem concerned at that possibility as I think you should,” Alex says with a frown. He twists so he’s facing Michael more. “There could be two timelines created, or you might have just disappeared in the past, which concerns all sorts of questions with paradoxes if you never existed to build this future you’re now living. Or maybe it’s just some kind of memory loss - “

 

“Alex,” Michael says, “I meant what I said. This - “ and he clears his throat a little, to force the words out, “This is as close to happiness as I could ever expect to get. What you’ve told me, what I’ve seen - it’s a good life.”

  
  
“It’s not yours, though,” Alex says, and Michael feels like he’s been hit. “Wait - I didn’t mean it like _that_ \- “

 

“No, I get it,” Michael says, swallowing any hurt. “I’m not your Michael.”

 

He steps away, meaning to go back to stare at Liz balancing test tubes or whatever instead of this, only Alex catches his arm before he can move too far.

 

“Guerin,” Alex says, then, “Michael. Look at me.”

 

Michael does look, because it’s like staring at the sun - the universe could tell him not to, but he’d rather be blinded than to spend another second without that kind of warmth on his face, just by looking back at Alex. 

 

Alex’s hand clasps his elbow, holding him there without any pressure, and he says, “I love you. Every version of you.”

  
  
“This isn’t what you signed up for, you don't need - “

 

“No,” Alex agrees, “It didn’t exactly come up as a possibility. But the idea stays the same. For better and for worse.”

 

"For better and for worse," Michael repeats, and Alex's eyes dip to his mouth. 

  
He’s not sure which one of them moved, but in the next moment, they’re kissing, softly and cautiously. It’s like their first kiss all over again, with the way that the thrill zips up his spine, makes him step closer, in between Alex’s legs. His hands go to Alex’s shoulders, tugging him in. 

 

Alex traces his fingers down Michael’s jaw, fingers going back into his hair. Michael breathes him in through his nose, feels the slow slide of their mouths together, and it’s like the earth has stopped its rotation in favor of focusing in on this one moment, the cosmos aligning around them.

 

Alex breaks the kiss first, and he presses his forehead against Michael’s. “We were two dumb kids,” he says, just like before, “And we found each other. I’m never going to give that up. Not now, and never again.”

  
Michael presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, feeling like he could start shaking. “Promise?”

  
  
“I promise,” Alex says.

 

 

•••

 

 

Liz is tactful enough to clear her throat from the other room, so they have the time to separate and walk back to her makeshift work station. The sky has dimmed at this point, starting to fade into the late afternoon light.

 

“Good news or bad news first?” she asks.

 

Alex and Michael trade looks. “Start with the worst,” Michael says. "Rip off the bandaid." 

 

“There are no visible changes to your cell structure, so there probably wasn’t a kind of massive exertion on your end,” Liz says, as professional as ever, but there's caution lining her tone. “That complicates things, because we can’t rule out that you have a higher tolerance for this use of your powers, or another alien is behind the switch - or even some kind of amnesia, and it’s really still you.”

 

“Another alien?” Michael echoes.

 

“And the good news?” Alex asks.

 

Liz shifts her focus from him to Alex. “There’s no sign of degradation or anything,” she says. “Whatever change happened, there’s no sign of instability. Your cells are intact, so you’re not in danger of disintegrating or rejecting the body if you’ve somehow transported here - as far as I can tell.”

 

“Hadn’t considered that possibility,” Michael says flatly, “No comforting absolutes, I suppose?”

 

Beside him, Alex shakes his head. “So - what? We just wait to see?”

  
  
“I’ll take these samples,” Liz says, and she starts to gather her supplies. “I have to go save Kyle from my children, but once Max is off and can take over, we can run some more tests. If there’s a scientific solution, we’ll find it.”

 

She directs that more at Michael, but her eyes flit to Alex. 

 

“Thank you, Liz,” Michael says at last, when it’s clear that Alex doesn’t say anything. “For everything.”

 

 

•••

 

 

They wave Liz off, who’s already on the phone with Kyle when she drives away. At his request, she had shown Michael a photo of her kids before she left - two cute, gap-toothed girls, one of whom already had glasses and a very Max-like expression on her face.

 

Alex reheats leftovers for them as an early dinner, like it’s their routine and he falls into the muscle memory. They eat with relatively few words exchanged between them.

 

Afterwards, they pile the dishes in the sink and go up to the bedroom. Michael follows Alex up to the stairs, studying the back of his head like that will give him some answer as they go into the bedroom- _their_ bedroom.

 

Alex changes from jeans into sweatpants and disappears into the bathroom, which Michael interprets as some measure of giving him space, which is a little funny to think about. He too finds a pair of pants from the dresser between the closets, though they might be Alex’s, given their unfortunate length to the middle of his calves.

 

The quirk to Alex’s mouth when he returns suggests that they are in fact his, but he doesn’t comment on it. Alex goes to the bed, and after taking his leg off, he lies down still without a word. Michael finds himself hovering somewhere in between, hands in his pockets.

 

He’s not sure what he would have done, had Alex not turned his head, and he says, “Lie down, Guerin.”

  
He does so. It occurs to Michael that he’s never really shared a bed with Alex - between sleeping together and, well, actually sleeping, they just have never had the kind of pillow talk time that he finds himself facing. Not that the quiet isn’t nice - he finds that even with the past day looming between them, there’s something to be said about the peaceful quality of just lying there, feeling Alex’s arm pressed up against his.

 

“I meant it,” Alex says finally. “We’ll make it work.”

 

“I’m afraid of waking up,” Michael reveals - more to the ceiling because he’s not sure if he could manage to get it out if he was looking right at him now. “And you’re not there. Or maybe you’re there, but it’s you from 2019, who knows how any of this works. And I don’t think then - you could stand this. And I wouldn’t blame you for leaving.”

 

“We both said things to hurt the other,” Alex answers. “Nothing will erase that. But we chose each other.”

 

When he says it like that, it makes Michael feel like he’s just revealed the secrets of the universe, and they’re lying there right across the bed from him, ready to hold. “Would you - again?”

 

“I already did,” Alex says, nearly too low for him to hear, but then he turns his head, and Michael can see him. “You have to know that.”

 

Michael kisses him to reply. If they were cautious before, this is all fire roaring out of control, building and building as Alex’s teeth tugs at his lower lip, making Michael melt impossibly close to him, running his hands under Alex’s shirt, trying to get as close as possible.

 

Alex falls back into the pillows as Michael presses himself against him, hands bracketing Alex’s face. Michael pauses just long enough to look at him - take him in, the differences and all - before he’s leaning in again, stubble scraping against his face as he chases that feeling for as long as he can, as long as he is able to.

 

Alex’s leg ends up between his as they hurriedly get rid of their clothes, and it’s familiar as it always is, even as their frantic pace slows down into something more slow and molten, Michael gasping into Alex’s mouth, Alex groaning as he turns to press his face into Michael’s hair. Alex is older and so _beautiful_ that it hurts his eyes to just look at him, as he sees none of the reservation that Alex in his time carries with him even, as they fell into bed together, as Alex looks right into his eyes even as he’s desperately seeking Michael’s eyes on him, too.

 

He thinks he might just die here, with Alex’s hands on him, the stutter in his hips against his, the mouth on his neck, and it would have been worth it.

 

After, Alex has his leg up over Michael’s thigh, his face pressed against his throat. The skin-warmed metal of Michael’s ring is pressed against his stomach, and he searches for Alex’s hand on his hip until he can see the matching metal there as well.

 

Michael’s eyes are heavy with sleep as he combs a hand through Alex’s hair, tries to say something. Only Alex burrows closer to him, mumbles something into his chest, and sleep takes him away quicker than he could fight it.

 

 

•••

 

 

Michael wakes up in the Airstream. Distantly, he tries to hold onto the fragments of the dream, but already feels his mind losing the details as soon as he comes to full awareness.

 

Whatever the dream was, it must have been something.

 

In the meantime, Alex’s words from yesterday are stuck in his memory, the words like some awful loop - after baring his soul, and Alex had needed time, and he had left again -

 

Michael understands it. He too would need a little goddamn time if he were the one realizing that the guy he’s been sleeping with on and off since high school (and maybe still in love with) was an alien. But when Alex says he needs space, and he walks away, and Michael is left just waiting around until the next time they clash -

 

He’s learned many lessons in his life, but one of the most important ones has been to go with that small instinct screaming at him.

 

He’s sitting up, and then standing before he fully recognizes what he’s doing. There’s a feeling that he’s been caught off guard, like he’s not supposed to be there at that moment - but he doesn’t know where else he needs to be.

 

Michael pushes aside a beer bottle from Isobel’s visit last night, fumbling for the phone he had luckily plugged in before passing out.

 

He types out a message to Alex, deletes it, then types out another.

 

His finger hesitates on the button for a moment, before he hits send.

 

In the middle of pulling on a shirt, he gets the incoming chime of a reply. Michael glances at it, picks up his keys, and he goes.

 

 

•••

 

 

He pulls up to the old cabin based on the directions Alex had sent him. He should probably ask Alex eventually how he ended up out here, but for now, he has more pressing concerns.

 

Alex answers the door, and there’s already a frown on his face. “Guerin,” he says, “I told you, I need time to think - “

 

“I know that, and I still needed to see you,” Michael blurts out, and Alex’s eyes are surprised, but still wary. “Can I come in?”

 

Alex hesitates, then nods. He spreads his arm to the side, stepping back so that Michael can walk in.

 

Michael glances around the space as Alex closes the door. He spies a dog bed in the corner, looking brand-new and easily the newest piece of furniture in this space.

 

“You got a dog,” Michael says, sounding surprised. “I didn’t know you were a dog person.”

 

“Not yet,” Alex says, and he shifts the crutch under his arm a little. “Maria’s mother, she’s a psychic. She told me that one was in my future, and given all I’ve learned in the past few months, I think I might take that kind of advice into consideration now.”

 

“You don’t think that’s like a self-fulfilling prophecy right there?”

  
  
“I think it’s smart to plan ahead,” Alex says, dry as ever, then: “What did you come here for?”

 

Michael drags his eyes away from the corner, back to Alex. “You told me that you loved me,” he says. “That I loved you.”

 

The expression on Alex's face shutters. “And you told me that you were planning on leaving the planet,” Alex says flatly, “If we’re putting it all out there now." 

 

And just like that, Michael sees. He translates the way Alex won’t look at him for more than a few seconds, the way his jaw clenches like he’s trying to stop himself from saying anything, only he doesn’t need words to understand Alex.

 

“I still love you,” Michael says, just putting it out in the open like that, and he takes another step forward. “Because - “

 

“Wait,” Alex says abruptly, and Michael stops. “I need to give you something. Before you say anything else.”

 

Whatever he’s expecting, it’s not for Alex to take a piece of the ship console out of the ragged backpack stored right there by the door.

 

Michael can feel his jaw so slack as Alex carries it over, so carefully, until he’s standing right there in front of Michael, holding the key between him and the universe. The piece glows under his touch, and as Michael touches the surface, the symbols ripple too.

 

“Where did you get this?” he asks, eyes roving over the surface, already wondering its placement in the ship back in the bunker.

 

“Kyle Valenti’s father left me this cabin,” Alex answers, “And he hid this piece for me to find. I didn’t understand what it was, not until you showed me.”

 

He meets Michael’s eyes over the piece. “With this, you can build that vehicle you were talking about, can’t you?”

 

It’s not really a question. “I think so,” Michael says.

 

“You should be happy,” Alex says, leaving him whirling once again, knocked off balance with so simple of a thing as words. “If you think whatever’s out there will bring you that, then I want you to have it.”

 

He pushes it towards Michael, but he doesn’t move to take it.

 

“I want you,” Michael says. He’s never felt this kind of fear before - never laid himself like that. Alex is giving him this piece, and Michael is giving him the power to destroy in the same breath.

 

“I can’t ask you to stay for me,” Alex says, agonizingly quiet. “I can’t do that to you.”

 

“Tell me you’d be happy with me,” Michael says like he’s pleading. “Damn it, just tell me - tell me what you want. You said you want to get to know me, but what do you want from me?”

 

Alex closes his eyes. The light from the piece is just enough to make his features glow, in the dim light of the cabin. Michael breathes in and out, and for this, he’s willing to wait a lifetime. 

 

Alex opens his eyes. Still watching him, he pushes the piece toward him. Michael takes it, feeling something hollow yawn open in him - but then Alex’s hands go to his wrists, holding him in front of him.

 

“Take it,” Alex says, “And if we - if it doesn’t work out, then you’ll have your happy ending. But I want to give us a chance.”

 

His hands are warm around Michael’s, and Michael can feel his heart thrum at the touch, feel himself fall in love all over again in those moments.

 

"Don't go," Alex says. 

  
  
“Okay,” Michael says, and it’s the start of something.

 

 

 

•••

 


End file.
